The ladies had risen and were retiring. Only at the door did the Countess venture on a direct allusion to the grand affair, which they did not speak of. 'I have received,' she said, 'from my son Ferdinand, who is at Rome, a distressing letter respecting the sadness which the announcement of the withdrawal of our troops has produced there.'
'Patience!' declared Saccard, in a tone of conviction. 'We are here to save everything.'
They exchanged profound bows, and he accompanied them to the landing, passing this time through the ante-room, which he fancied was empty. But, as he came back, he noticed, on a bench, a tall, withered fellow of fifty, clad like a working man in his Sunday best, and accompanied by a pretty girl of eighteen, slender and pale.
'What! What do you want?'
The girl had risen first, and the man, intimidated by this abrupt reception, began to stammer a confused explanation.
'I had given orders that everybody was to be sent away!' added Saccard. 'Why are you here? Tell me your name at least.'
'Dejoie, monsieur, and I have come with my daughter Nathalie——'
Then he again became confused, so much so that Saccard in his impatience was about to push him to the door, when he finally understood that Madame Caroline had known the fellow for a long time and had told him to wait.
'Ah! you are recommended by Madame Caroline! You should have said so at first. Come in, and make haste, for I am very hungry.'